


Hostages and Hope

by flightinflame



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson's pining over Agent Barton is interrupted by the Agent being kidnapped.  When he tries to rescue him, things go downhill and he realises that maybe his feelings aren't quite as unrequited as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostages and Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Westgate (Harkpad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/gifts).



"Ugh." Clint muttered over the comm, sighing to himself. "I hate it up here Coulson. It smells and I'm bored."  
"Focus Barton." Coulson replied, trying to hide the small smile that threatened at Clint’s complaint. He had every sympathy with Clint's discomfort - he'd been on the rooftop for the best part of the last three days, waiting for any signs of the group that had been attempting to use alien technology and there had been very little that had happened. Agent Barton was not the most patient at the best of times, and half a week of boredom was more than enough to make him grumpy. "I am sure they'll appear soon."

"Whatever sir. You just like sticking me out of view so no one steals your donuts."  
Phil bit back a smile, shaking his head slightly. Clint might have had a point, but it would have been beneath him to admit that was the case.   
"You'll get a donut after the mission. I'll get you one of those caramel monstrosities if you just be quiet and get your work done."  
"Bribery now sir?" Clint answered. "Awesome."

Coulson took a deep breath and focused on the screens in front of him, trying not to smile at Clint's behaviour. He knew that he was falling for Agent Barton fast - the man was funny and clever and difficult and heartbreakingly kind. This mission with just the two of them made things more difficult - during the day he had Clint snarking at him on comms and at night they shared the safehouse and Clint cooked some of the best food Phil had ever tasted. But he didn't want to fall for him. It wouldn't be proper. Clint had had enough betrayal in his life, he deserved the chance now to have someone he could trust.

That train of thought was derailed by a sudden shout, before Clint's commline went dead.  
"Agent Barton?" Coulson called out, picking up his gun and racing towards the nest. "Agent Barton report."

There was silence.

Coulson scrambled up to the rooftop where Clint had been positioned. He wasn't there any more, but his bow was still in place, as were some protein bars and a bottle of water. Coulson cursed under his breath, pushing a button on his phone to alert SHIELD that something was wrong. He looked around, and fell as a dart hit into his neck, making the world around him go black as he crumpled to the floor.

***

"Sir?" Clint's voice echoed strangely in Phil's brain seeming to bounce off his thoughts. He blinked slowly, trying to clear away the fog in his brain. "Sir, I'm right here, can you open your eyes for me?"

Coulson groaned, slowly opening one eye to gaze up at Clint who was looming above him. There was a nasty cut across Clint's forehead, and a red mark on his cheek which looked like it would soon be a bruise. A trail of dried blood ran down Clint's chin.  
"Where...where are we?" Coulson murmured, trying to sit up.   
Clint's hands on his shoulders kept him in position.  
"I don't know sir. Not a group I'm familiar with, you stay there... they've got a logo that looks a bit like an octopus, might be one of Namor's lot but he tends to stay clear of alien stuff."

Coulson frowned. He knew who that logo belonged to, but he didn't want to worry Clint. Right now their focus had to be on getting out. He tried to sit up again.  
"Easy..." Clint muttered. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay, but you're still dizzy. You've been out of it for ages, they gave you another doze of the sedative while you were under. I got worried you weren't gonna get up again."

"I'm up now." Coulson murmured. "We should escape."  
"Yeh." Clint agreed. "Soon as you stop slurring your words."  
"'m not slurring." Coulson protested but Clint ignored him, then tensed as he heard the door open.

A man dressed in black walked in, a stun baton in one hand. He walked over to the two of them, grabbing Clint and shoving him away. Clint fell towards the corner, whimpering as he landed hard on his side, and Coulson realised he was hurt a lot worse than he had been letting on. He frowned, seeing how Clint was trying to protect one of his arms, and mentally cursed as he realised that one of Clint's shoulders was dislocated.

He tried to reach out towards him, but was stopped by the other man driving the stun baton hard into his stomach, making him scream out in agony as shock ran through him. The stun baton was held in place for several seconds, and Phil felt his body convulsing in agony. He was screaming, he couldn't help it, couldn't hold back the sounds, it hurt too much.

"Hey!" Clint's voice cut through the air, and Coulson could hear that it was shaking slightly. "Over here, you idiot." The man shocked Phil once more, then returned to Clint, bringing the baton down against his chest. Clint screamed out, and Phil bit at his lip, struggling to reach him and still shaking from his own shocks.

Clint kept screaming, and Phil didn't have the control over his body necessary to reach him. He was still dizzy. Everything around him seemed a step removed, as though he was watching from a distance.

Clumsily, he raised his hand to his watch, and pushed the button that would send out an alert of his location. He dropped his hands back to his side before the man noticed what he had done, and caught sight of Clint getting a boot to the stomach. Clint screamed out, and the man turned away.  
"You are both going to tell us everything you know." He said calmly. His accent was American, a deep drawl quite different from the staccato bark Coulson had expected. With that, he left.

Clint wasn't moving, was just curled up on the far side of the cell, whimpering softly. Slowly, Coulson made his way over to him, dragging himself across the floor before reaching out to gently squeeze his uninjured shoulder.  
"Hey Barton."  
"Hey sir..." Clint answered, his voice sounding more than a little shaken. He managed a weak smile at him. "Sorry about that..."

"It's okay. SHIELD is on its way, I promise..." Coulson told him. Clint nodded, managing a weak smile, and then shaking his head.  
"You shouldn't be here sir. It's my fault, I got you caught."

"You did no such thing." Coulson promised, reaching out to stroke his fingers through Clint's hair, seeing that the action soothed him. "It's going to be fine. Help is going to arrive, we just need to be patient."

"Yeh..." Clint agreed. "Just... yeh. I was thinking the other day how much I wanted you to pet my hair and cuddle me." He laughed hollowly. "Guess you gotta be careful what you wish for. You gave me a real fright when you first got in here. When you wouldn't wake up. Fury'd be pissed as hell if I got you killed, and I don't wanna lose you..."

Coulson nodded, gently shushing Clint. He knew that the other man wasn't very aware at that moment. To take what he was saying seriously would be unfair. Still, when they got out of there, maybe then he could ask about it.

Clint yawned, and Coulson pulled him closer.  
"Get some rest, your body is exhausted. I'll wake you up if anyone comes."  
Almost on hearing the instruction, Clint was unconscious. 

It was far too soon that Phil had to gently shake Clint awake, before three of the black-clad men returned into the room, one holding Phil in place while the other two dragged Clint away, pulling at his dislocated arm. Phil was released and left alone, and he lay in the cell, listening to the echoes of Clint's screams and trying not to gag.

It was hours before the door opened once more, and he found himself looking up at Agent Romanoff. She arched an eyebrow as she walked towards him, reaching down to help him stand and then handing him some spare clothes, turning her back as he changed. Once he was dressed again, he hobbled towards her.   
"Plan?"  
"Getting the two of you out of here." Natasha answered. "I'm going to clear the corridor. Clint's the next room along, he's on his own, but I thought I should give you the chance to play the hero and rescue him."

Phil felt himself blushing, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before staggering towards the door. He let Natasha race off, fumbling to open the door to the next cell along.

Clint was collapsed on the floor, but he looked up as the door opened, and smiled to see Phil. Phil made his way closer carefully, crouching beside him, taking in the bruises across his body, the cuts and swellings. He gently squeezed his hand.  
"Natasha's here. Time to go home."

Clint nodded slowly, struggling to stand.   
"Do I have to go to medical?"  
"Clint, I'm startled you are still conscious. Yes, you have to go to medical. We both do..."   
Clint clung to him with his good arm, and Phil helped him to his feet. 

The journey to medical was a blur to Phil, the one constant being Clint's hand against his, their fingers interlaced. He was aware of Natasha talking, but his head was ringing and he couldn't make himself focus. He mumbled his way through an apology which seemed to amuse her.  
"It's alright sir. You just rest, we can talk about this later."

Coulson woke to find himself in medical, on a bed beside Agent Barton's. Whilst he was hooked to some monitors, Barton had a cast around one leg and one arm, and had various drips going into and out of his body. He reached out to gently pet Barton's hair, and slowly Clint's eyes flickered open.

"Sir?"  
"Hey." Phil answered. "We're safe now. Just wanted to check you were alright."  
"I'm fine sir." Clint muttered, a shiver running through him. "Just got to get ready to go home."  
"I don't think you're ready to leave yet."   
"I don't want to be here." Clint whined. "It's cold and I don't like it."

"You need to stay..." Phil murmured, glancing at the wires around him. They were all quite long, and he wasn't far from Barton. He began the slow and inelegant process of shuffling across from one bed to the other, cuddling up around Barton and stroking his head.  
"I can go back if you want..."  
"No." Clint answered quickly. "Please. Please stay, just..." He swallowed. "Did I...Did I say something about you touching my hair?"  
"You did."  
"Oh." Clint blushed slightly, and swallowed, then nodded. "I meant it."

Phil hesitated, then moved a little closer, wrapping one arm over Clint's chest and stroking his hair with the other hand.  
"We'll talk about it when you're recovered."

Clint twisted to gently brush his lips against Coulson's. Coulson smiled, and let Clint entwine his fingers with his own. He gave Clint's hand a gentle squeeze and let himself drift off once more. The conversation could wait. What mattered right now was that he had Clint in his arms.


End file.
